


less terrible

by katierosefun



Category: The Black Tapes Podcast
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Nightmares, Sleeping Together, Touching, post 2x12
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-12
Updated: 2017-08-12
Packaged: 2018-12-14 11:21:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11782107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katierosefun/pseuds/katierosefun
Summary: [set after 2x12]“It’s funny,” Alex finally said, drawing her keys out. The metal glinted in the dying light. “A part of me wants to go home, but…” She let out a small, incredulous sound that could have constituted as a laugh. “I can’t remember the last time I felt comfortable there.” Alex tried to imagine sleeping in her apartment now, after hearing Simon Reese’s message.God. She already knew what would be haunting her nightmares tonight.“Alex.”“What?” Alex looked up from her keys. Strand was watching her, and not for the first time today, Alex was struck by how tired he looked. (How tired they both were.)Strand’s voice was quiet. “Go home. Get some rest.”“I don’t…” Alex clenched her hand around her keys, hard enough to leave small ridge marks on her palm. She swallowed, raising her eyes to meet Strand’s blue ones. “I don’t want to. I can’t.” She lifted her chin in the semblance of defiance. “Can you? Would you be able to?”Strand didn’t answer, but that silence was enough.[Or, Strand somehow ends up in Alex's apartment for the night this time.]





	less terrible

The silence that followed Simon’s voice message was deafening.

“Well.” Nic’s voice was small. Small and quiet, compared to the ringing in Alex’s ears. “That was…unsettling.”

“That’s one word for it,” Alex heard Strand say from behind her. His voice came as a shock to Alex—it was as steady as always (or, as steady as it had been as of late), his tone balanced on that border of boredom and frustration. “But we’ve already established that Simon Reese is…troubled. We can’t take any of his words seriously.”

“Still.” Nic swept his hand to Alex’s phone. “You don’t think it’s even a _bit_ creepy? I mean, Simon just basically told us that we’re responsible for playing demon-summoning—Alex? What are you…?”

Alex didn’t hear what Nic had to say. In one swift motion, she had shoved her phone in her pocket and was marching out of the studio. She was vaguely aware of Nic calling after her again, but even that got drowned out by the damn _ringing_. Why were her ears still ringing?

Alex felt something bump abruptly into her arm, and she looked down to see that it was just an intern brushing past her. The intern’s face blurred before her eyes as Alex stopped to mumble something that she hoped would sound like an apology. She could only register the freckles on the intern’s face before making her way out the doors.

Alex only made it a few steps out before stopping short.

It was dark out.

Or, at least, it was _getting_ dark.

Alex figured that was worse.

She looked up to see the last few glimmers of the sun disappearing over the horizon, leaving the sky bruised shades of black and blue and purple. Despite the fact that it was still August, Alex felt a cold wind whip past her hair. And though it wasn’t particularly strong, Alex still felt her breath get trapped from the wind’s sudden force.

For a terrifying few seconds, Alex thought she couldn’t breathe.

 _What have we done?_ she thought.

 _What have_ I _done?_

_Breathe._

Alex’s breath came out in full force, and then she doubled over, heaving. Hands shaking over her knees. Hair dangling in front of her eyes. Cold sweat sliding down the back of her neck. She didn’t even want to know what she looked like—probably like a ghost.

 _A demon, maybe._ Alex wanted to laugh, but she couldn’t find the energy to do even that.

“God,” Alex muttered, slowly straightening herself. She was a mess. (She was always a mess.) Alex patted her pocket for her phone, and her hand froze over it again. Her fingers felt numb. Under normal circumstances, she would have started driving home by now. As of now, though, Alex wasn’t sure if she could even get her keys out of her pocket.

Alex reached her hand into her other pockets for her keys, only to come up with empty space.

That was when she realized that she hadn’t brought her sweater with her.

“ _Dammit,_ ” Alex hissed, bringing her hand up to her forehead. She’d have to go back to the studio to pick her sweater up. Back to Nic and back to the interns and back to the studio and back to Strand and back to where they had played those stupid _recordings_ —

“Here.”

Alex whirled around to see Strand standing in front of the studio, her sweater dangling from his outstretched hand.

“You left this,” he said simply when Alex didn’t take her sweater right away. “I figured you’d need it.”

“I—yeah,” Alex replied, reaching out to take her sweater. She quickly wrapped it around herself, stopping short when she felt the weight of her keys hit against her waist. Alex slipped a hand into her pocket, flinching at the sudden cold metal against her skin.

“It’s funny,” Alex finally said, drawing her keys out. The metal glinted in the dying light. “A part of me wants to go home, but…” She let out a small, incredulous sound that could have constituted as a laugh. “I can’t remember the last time I felt comfortable _there_.” Alex tried to imagine sleeping in her apartment _now_ , after hearing Simon Reese’s message.

God. She already knew what would be haunting her nightmares tonight.

“Alex.”

“What?” Alex looked up from her keys. Strand was watching her, and not for the first time today, Alex was struck by how _tired_ he looked. (How tired they both were.)

Strand’s voice was quiet. “Go home. Get some rest.”

“I don’t…” Alex clenched her hand around her keys, hard enough to leave small ridge marks on her palm. She swallowed, raising her eyes to meet Strand’s blue ones. “I don’t want to. I can’t.” She lifted her chin in the semblance of defiance. “Can _you_? Would _you_ be able to?”

Strand didn’t answer, but that silence was enough.

“Not like you’ve been getting much sleep, either,” Alex murmured, fingering the key to her car.

“We’re not talking about me—we’re talking about you,” Strand said pointedly.

“And I don’t feel like talking about me right now,” Alex replied.

There was another pause.

“Just.” Alex closed her eyes briefly. “I can’t go home right now.”

“Then where are you going?”

Alex lifted her shoulders into a halfhearted shrug. “I’ll drive around.” _Somehow_ , she added silently.

Another cold breeze lifted past Alex. She shivered again, despite the fact that she was wearing her sweater now. Her keys felt like ice in her hand.

“Well.” Alex managed to say at last, lifting her keys. “Night.” She turned on her heel, heading across the parking lot. There weren’t any other cars save hers and Nic’s and a couple of other late-night interns’. It was officially dark now, and the several lamp posts scattered throughout the lot cast an eerie glow over the cars. Alex tried to keep her eyes away from the fluorescent glows of the lamps—particularly the shadows that lingered at their edges. (What had Simon said? Something about seeing deeper into shadows?)

“Alex—Alex, wait.” She heard hurried footsteps behind her, and then, just as Alex was just about to reach her car, a (surprisingly) warm hand grabbed her elbow.

Alex drew in a sharp breath and spun around, coming short to see Strand only a little ways from her. Her eyes immediately jumped down to his hand on her elbow, and as if on cue, Strand quickly dropped it—only the heat from his hand took a little longer to leave.

“I—” Strand cleared his throat. “I don’t think you should be alone.”

Alex felt her lips tug into a weak smile. “That’s ironic, coming from you.” She turned back to her car. “But you should be the one going home.”

“I can’t.” Strand’s voice was quiet.

Alex sighed and leaned forward, resting her forehead against her car window. Like everything else (except Strand’s hand), it felt cold against her skin.  

The two stood like that for a little while, Alex leaning against her car and Strand right behind her. Alex wondered what they looked like to the casual passerby—not that there was anyone around to see them. Did they look as tired as they felt?

Finally, Alex swung open the car door. Wordlessly, she got in and pushed open the passenger side door. She turned to see Strand still waiting outside.

“Get in.” Alex said shortly.

Strand didn’t argue.

\--

Even though she didn’t want to, Alex found herself driving to her apartment. The whole ride there and the way up to the apartment itself was silent. Alex actually didn’t say anything until she opened her apartment door.

“Can I…offer you a drink?” she asked, turning to Strand.

He only shook her head, and that was that.

\--

Alex ended up getting Strand a drink, anyways.

They sat next to each other on the couch, Alex with her legs crossed on the cushions, Strand with his knees making perfect right angles with the floor. (He was too tall to do anything else with his legs on Alex’s couch.)

Alex cast Strand a sidelong glance. His head was tilted slightly back, resting against the couch cushion in the way that any tired person does after a too-long day. His eyes closed briefly for one moment, and then, as if he was shocked, they snapped right back open. Strand’s hands were still wrapped around the mug of tea that Alex had poured out for him. Steam still rose from the mug in lazy, loose clouds, but Strand didn’t seem to take notice.

“What?” Strand’s voice was soft—so soft that if Alex hadn’t seen Strand’s lips move, she didn’t think she would have heard him.

“It’s just…” Alex placed her own half-drunk mug of tea on the coffee table. “Give me a minute.” She stood up and left the small living room. She ducked into her bedroom, ignoring the sudden chill that swept up her spine as she did so. Again, Alex purposely kept her eyes away from the shadowy parts of her room.

“Blankets,” she muttered to herself, yanking out her drawers. She had kept one drawer just dedicated to stuffing extra blankets and sheets.

After just a few seconds of self-debate, Alex pulled out a dark, thick blanket from the drawer. She shook it out, relieved that she had washed these things only a few days before.

When she returned to the living room, Strand was in the same position Alex had left him in, save that he, too, had put his mug on the coffee table.

As she padded her way into the living room, Strand turned around—and he stopped short at the heap of blankets in Alex’s arms.

“Is that…?”

“For you.” Alex let out a soft huff as she dropped the blankets on the couch. She hopped over on the other side, tugging the blankets down in what she hoped was a semi-professional manner.

 _Professionalism, my ass,_ Alex thought, almost snorting. She was way past the point of professionalism now.

Strand stood up. “Alex, you don’t have to—”

“Yes, I do.” Alex didn’t bother looking back up at him. She re-adjusted the couch pillows, just for good measure. “There.” She straightened herself and, satisfied with her work, turned to Strand. He looked as though he wanted to say something—but the moment passed, and he just looked back down at the couch.

“Well.” Alex gave one of the couch pillows a final pat. “I’ll…”

“You said you can’t sleep.”

Alex kept her hand on the couch pillow. “No.” She smoothed her hand over the fabric. She shook her head, more to herself than to Strand. “But I’ll be fine.” She pushed herself off the couch. Gesturing to the blankets, Alex said, “You sleep first. I’ll be in my…room back there.” She pointed halfheartedly. With that, Alex started to make her way around the couch—only before she could disappear into her room, Strand called after her.

“Nothing’s going to happen tomorrow, Alex.”

Alex paused in the doorway. “Good night,” was all she could say.

\--

_There was something under her bed._

_There was always something under her bed._

_This time, it wasn’t a monster—nor was it a cat, nor was it a demon._

_But it was a boy._

_“If you build it, he will come,” the boy whispered, his dark eyes gleaming from underneath Alex’s bed. His lips stretched into a smile. “He’s coming, Alex.” He giggled a little bit. “He’s coming, and you won’t even see it until too late.”_

_Alex couldn’t find the words to tell the boy to go away. She couldn’t even summon the slightest shred of strength to rip her eyes away from him._

_She didn’t even get the chance to move when he lunged for her._

\--

Alex woke up with a jolt, her heart pounding erratically fast in her chest. Her shirt stuck to her back, and her whole body was trembling, as though she had just spent the night out in the cold. She let out a shaky breath, quickly turning from side to side to make sure that there wasn’t anyone else in her room.

There wasn’t.

Alex wiped her hands across her face. She was only partially surprised to find that her hands came away wet. Whether from tears or from sweat, she couldn’t tell.

She needed to get out of bed.

Alex stumbled out of her room. She would wash her face—that’s what she would do. She’ll—she’ll get some work done. Maybe. Maybe record another sleep note? Alex let out an incredulous little huff of laughter. Did those stupid sleep notes help, anyways? They were just…little rambles. Nothing more, nothing less.

She made it halfway across the living room before spotting the dark mass sitting on her couch.

With a sharp gasp of surprise, Alex stopped short. Her heart stuttered—and before she could stop herself, a small cry ripped out of her throat.

Immediately, as if it had _heard_ her, the mass moved—and it made a _sound_. A low growl, almost—no, it was _definitely_ a growl.

“No, no, no,” Alex whispered, quickly scurrying backwards. Her hands slipped over themselves as the mass shifted from the couch. “No—you’re not here. You’re not— _oh!_ ” Alex cried out as she slipped backwards. Pain shot up her back, and a new kind of ringing entered Alex’s ears, but she couldn’t stop scooting backwards.

“No—” she breathed. “No, no, no— _please_ —”

And then a light flicked on.

Alex was ready to cry out again—only under the light, she found Strand sitting up on the couch.

“Alex?” Strand’s voice was slightly slurred with sleep, but it was definitely him. “What are you…?”

Alex felt as though someone had just filled her lungs with air. Or maybe someone had punctured a hole in her lungs. Maybe she was running out of air. She couldn’t tell anymore.

But then Alex was shuddering out a sob, her chest heaving and the tears starting to spill down her cheeks. “God,” she choked out, lowering her head into her knees. “ _I thought_ …” She slammed a curled-up fist against the wooden floor, not caring if her hand started to sting. “I…”

She heard hurried steps her way, and before Alex could protest, a pair of warm hands settled over her shoulders.

“Alex.”

Alex could feel Strand’s breath at the top of her head. That would have been strange, but if it was, Alex didn’t register that right away. She could only feel Strand’s hands on her shoulders. Had she always been this cold? Why did he feel so _warm?_

“Dammit,” Alex whispered. “ _Damn_ it.”

“Alex, look at me.”

Somehow, Alex managed to lift her eyes to Strand’s.

His eyes—they were so _blue._

That was when Alex realized that it was because Strand had taken his glasses off.

That was also when Alex realized this was the first time she was seeing Strand without his glasses.

It was strange. She could see his eyes better.

They were clear—weary, but _clear_. Worried.

“I’m sorry.” Alex whispered. “I didn’t mean to—”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Strand said firmly. “Nothing is your fault.”

Alex let out a short, sarcastic laugh. “How can you even say that?” she asked incredulously. “I—those stupid _tapes_.” She shook her head. “I…couldn’t stay away. And I put everyone in danger because of it.” She tried to pull away from Strand’s hands, but he held tight to her. “You said it yourself,” Alex said almost desperately, lifting her eyes to meet Strand’s gaze. “That…shadow organization. They were tracking Coralee. Through the podcast.”

“Alex—”

“ _No_ ,” Alex interrupted. “You don’t get to disprove me on this one.” She held up a hand. “I…hunted after those tapes. I went after them. I didn’t stop. And I didn’t stop _asking_.” She threw up both of her hands this time. “And then I went and played the _Mysterium_ , and now everything is my _fault_ —I couldn’t keep my head out of…” She pushed her hands up to her face. “I couldn’t be satisfied,” she murmured. “I’m never…satisfied.” Alex rested her forehead against her knees. In a small voice, she finished, “I just…want it to stop. Rewind.”

“But we can’t do that.” Strand said quietly.

“I want to sleep.”

“You should.”

Alex lifted her head. Strand was already looking back at Alex’s bedroom. “You…” He turned back to her. “Do you want me to…?” He paused, as if mulling over his next words. But then, all in a rush, he asked, “Do you want me to stay with you?”

Alex closed her eyes.

“I just want to stay here,” she said at last. “Not my room. Not…there.”

“Alright.” Strand cleared his throat. “Then…” Alex felt a gentle tug on her shoulders—and when she opened her eyes, Strand was already standing up. Alex, her body feeling heavy, managed to rise to her feet. She swayed a little—the sudden pain from falling down still lingered on her body. Alex only managed a small step before crashing into Strand’s side.

“Careful,” Strand said, grabbing Alex’s arms to keep her from falling back to the ground. “Don’t hurt yourself.”

Alex felt heat rush up to her face. “I—” She glanced up at Strand, then quickly looked back at the ground. “I didn’t mean to—”

“I know.” Strand’s voice was gentle. “But it’s fine.”

The two half-walked, half-supported each other back into the living room—and then, in silent agreement, they both fell into the couch. Alex slid into the inside of the couch, and Strand carefully arranged himself next to her—just so that the two would only have a little space between each other.

Alex could feel Strand’s breath brushing against the top of her head again. If she turned even a little further, her face would come into Strand’s chest. And if Strand leaned just a bit closer, his chin could rest against the top of her head. And if he moved his arm a little, his fingertips could probably meet her hips.

Alex felt her face prickle with an uncomfortable heat, and she only barely looked up to see if Strand was wondering the same thing.

His eyes were already on her.

“Is this…” His voice was tentative. So tentative that Alex almost felt like laughing at the absurdity of it all. “Is this alright? For you?”

“Yes.” Alex was surprised at how easy her answer slipped out. Then, after a pause, she breathed out, “What about this? Is _this_ alright for… _you?_ ”

“I…” Strand’s eyes flitted down to Alex’s hands. To her eyes.

(To her lips. Back to her eyes.)

Then, hoarsely, he whispered, “This is alright.”

“…okay.” Alex let out a small breath. She turned a little on her side, so that her face would come short with the couch cushions. Still, she could feel Strand right behind her. Alex stretched out her legs just a little—and almost instantly, her feet brushed against Strand’s shins.

“Sorry.” Alex whispered.

“It’s fine.” Strand whispered back.

The two laid there like that, Alex curled in the direction of the couch, Strand laid out next to her, acting like some kind of barrier against the coffee table.

“What are we going to do from here?” Alex asked at last. “What now?”

“Now?” Strand breathed. His breath tickled the top of Alex’s ear.

“I mean…” Alex closed her eyes briefly. “What are we going to do tomorrow? We can’t just…go back to normal, can we?”

Strand hesitated. “No,” he said quietly. “I guess we can’t.”

Alex felt her heart sink. “I don’t know what we’re going to do.”

“We’re not going to do anything.” Strand replied.

Alex turned around.

“Not right now,” Strand added. His eyes met Alex’s. “Right now, we’re going to…re-adjust.”

“Sleep,” Alex suggested.

“Sleep.” Strand agreed.

“…we’re terrible at this.”

The corner of Strand’s lips tugged into a smile. “Can’t argue with that.”

“I…” Alex felt her heartbeat flutter. “I’m glad you’re here. I mean…” She paused. “Makes things a little less terrible,” she amended.

This time, Strand actually did smile. A sleepy, halfhearted smile, but a smile nonetheless.

“Well, if it means anything to you, Alex,” he said quietly, “I’m glad you’re here, too.” He paused. “Makes things a little less terrible.”

Alex closed her eyes. As if on instinct, her head started to lean towards Strand. “I guess we’ll have to settle for that.”

Then, she felt Strand’s fingers brush ever-so-gently against her hip. “I guess we’ll have to.”

\--

They fell asleep.

-fin-

**Author's Note:**

> I know that the end of 2x12 is probably set around sometime in the morning, but sssh, let's pretend it's nighttime now because...science. 
> 
> I'm also sorry for any slight inaccuracies--I binge-listened to both seasons The Black Tapes Podcast in four days, so everything is still a bit muddled in my mind. (The only thing I know for certain is that I ship Alex and Richard need to...interact more. Take that as you like.) 
> 
> This was also my first time attempting to write a Black Tapes Podcast fanfic, so writing the characters felt a little unfamiliar to me. I'm planning to improve that by maybe (attempting) to write more TBT fanfics, but I don't know how that'll work out. 
> 
> Reviews are always appreciated. (Let's scream over Stragan together. And also pray that season three will make it canon, dammit.)


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